


How to Throw Yourself at the Ground and Miss

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Background Het, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Open Relationships, Pining, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is pining over his friend and partner Sam Wilson.  He just doesn't realize that Sam might be doing the same thing, and not making a move for other reasons.  Written for Sam/Bucky Week 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Throw Yourself at the Ground and Miss

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in Marvel 616 during the time period when Bucky was Captain America. Bucky is currently in a relationship with Natasha Romanova, as he was canonically during this time period, but in the fic it is an open relationship, and Natasha is both aware of Bucky's interest in Sam and has encouraged him to pursue it. Bucky is honest with Sam about the open relationship and the terms of it in the fic. The title comes from _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ by Douglas Adams.

Bucky sucked on the lip of his soda bottle and tried not to be too obvious about how he was looking across the table.

It just—it hit him sometimes. Out of the blue. Sam’s quick smile, the line of his jaw, the flex of his shoulders, and then he was just left sitting there, fighting the heat rising in his cheeks.

Bucky had always known he was attracted to fellas as well as ladies, that wasn’t the thing. And he knew that—that it was—something people talked about now, and not even in hushed tones, something that not everyone felt they had to hide without saying. It had been kinda strange, disorienting, to realize that the reason no guys seemed to touch each other anymore was because they were afraid of looking like a fairy. Didn’t seem worth it to Bucky, when the familiar weight of Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders and squeezing was something that made everything seem to settle again, even when he was all mixed up, or having a bad day. But Sam was one of the few friends he could say he’d made, all on his own, since—well, since. Even if he’d been Steve’s friend, first, and so he’d still had Steve’s help there, but—it still counted, didn’t it?

And even if you _could_ tell a fella you liked him that way now, how did you go about it? Even he didn’t like other guys, it was still gonna be awkward, no matter how socially acceptable, he figured. And he didn’t want to ruin it.

(Did Sam like other guys? And how would Bucky know if he did? All the old tells were different now anyway.)

Sam was so . . . handsome. And around him Bucky found himself acting up like a stupid kid, because . . . because he was an idiot, and he’d always done that around the people he liked. He was pretty sure it wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of impressing Sam, but there you had it, and—

And Sam was so . . . brave. Loyal. Strong. He had it so together. And even if Sam did like guys, there was no guarantee he’d like ‘em like Bucky. The comparison to Steve felt inevitable. But still, he couldn’t help it. Mooning over him like a teenage girl. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

Hell, Bucky had always been obvious. Who was he kidding? Sam stretched his arms out behind his head and scratched at his hip and Bucky gulped down the last swallow of his soda pop, feeling his cheeks go bright red.

This was bad. He was getting worse. Worse at hiding it. Worse at—worse at—

“You gonna finish that soda, kid?” Sam asked.

“Um, yeah,” Bucky muttered. “I’m about done.” He set the bottle back down on the table and pushed it forward with his fingers, self-conscious over how he’d just given up the one thing shielding his obvious mooning from Sam’s view.

Sam was giving him one of those looks, one of the ones that felt considering. At first Bucky had always wondered if he was comparing him to Steve, measuring his aptitude for the job. He’d stopped worrying about that quite so much, but now Bucky worried if he could see right through him. His cheeks were still red. And Natasha had said his crush on Sam was obvious. Had told him to go for it. Bucky was still sorta . . . wrapping his head around the idea of an open relationship, but it also sounded good.

But there was one more reason for Sam not to go with him, wasn’t it?

Sam was still looking at him. “So,” Bucky said, trying a grin. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“I should never have let you watch all those movies,” Sam said with a laugh. “You’re getting as bad as Steve.” But they cleared the detritus of the meal off the table all the same and started out into the sunshine of the day.

“They were good, though,” Bucky said, shoving his hands in his pockets as they went. Even though his mechanical arm now easily blended in as a flesh one, it was a hard habit to break. The day was nice and warm, with a slight breeze, and it was easier to forget about his—err, stupid little problem when he wasn’t looking Sam right in the face. “That place was, too,” he added, indicating the mock soda parlor with a nod of his head. “Not exactly like the real deal, though.”

“Yeah, the food’s better, right?” Sam said in a teasing tone.

Bucky had to laugh. “Yeah, something like that,” he admitted. It was still strange, just to walk through the streets without looking over his shoulder, without being on a mission or on the run.

They were climbing up the stairs to Bucky’s place when Sam nudged him in the side with his arm. “Hey,” he said. “What was eating you today?”

Bucky felt a wash of nervous prickles go down his spine and take up residence in his stomach. “Um,” he said. “Uh, nothing, I guess. I mean, it’s no big deal.”

He didn’t have to look out of more than the corner of his eye to see that Sam’s eyebrows were climbing up into his hairline. He braced his arm on the jamb of Bucky’s door and leaned back against the wall, looking him in the face. “Uh-huh,” Sam said. “And you expect me to believe that because . . . .”

Bucky tried not to look away, to look down, but failed. “Because I said it’s not a big deal?” he tried lamely. He tried not to let his fists clench up in his pockets. _Okay, Barnes, calm down. You can play this off._

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it that this isn’t going to affect you in the field?” Sam asked. “C’mon, Bucky.”

Bucky swallowed. His throat felt very dry, but he tried for composure. “It isn’t,” he said. But could he be honest about that? Didn’t it sometimes slide into his gut and throb there, after a hard mission, or when Sam caught him just in the nick of time, just like it did with Natasha? But he and Natasha had always been able to work together, professionally, despite all that. Or mostly. He could do that with Sam, too, couldn’t he?

Though it was . . . different, when Sam didn’t know, that was for sure.

“Look,” Sam said, lowering his arm. “Did I do something to upset you? Because it seems like you’re having some kind of problem with me, and—”

Bucky didn’t think about what he was going to do next. At all. He didn’t even consider it. All he did was step forward and press his lips to Sam’s. It was a clumsy, awkward, sort of kiss, way too eager, and self-awareness slammed back into him in the middle of it, even as Sam was sucking in a breath, so all he really managed to register was that his lips were warm and that he tasted like rootbeer, and Bucky jolted back and stammered, “That’s—that’s it. That’s the problem.”

Christ. Could he be any more of an idiot? Only pure determination kept Bucky from burying his burning face in his hands.

Sam stared at him for a moment. His eyes seemed very wide and very dark. Then he sucked in a breath. “Oh,” he said, then, “Aren’t you with Natasha? I mean, cheating on the Black Widow, man, doesn’t seem like a very good idea.”

Bucky swallowed. Bit the inside of his lip. The words still came out in a mumble. “It’s an open relationship,” he managed. “She—she thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” Sam said again, then muttered something that sounded like, “then that’s different.”

Was it? Bucky wondered, miserably. How much of their friendship had he just screwed up?

“Then we can do something about this,” Sam said, and grinned, before he stepped forward. Before Bucky could really process it, he had draped one arm around Bucky’s shoulders—warm, steadying, strong—and leaned in, pressed his lips to his in return.

The kiss was very different, this time. Bucky choked, and almost swallowed his own tongue, sure, but Sam was patient, just keeping up the light, gentle pressure against his mouth, even as Bucky’s lips parted in shock, and it was only after Bucky started to lean into it, tentative, barely believing, that Sam sucked lightly on his bottom lip, teased his tongue across it so gently it was barely a whisper of sensation, though it still sent tingles all the way down Bucky’s spine and into his toes.

It was a long time before Bucky thought about anything else. Even when Sam pulled away, his head was still full of the kiss, the way it had felt, the touch of his lips, until Sam put a hand to Bucky’s cheek, to the side of his head, and pushed Bucky’s hair back off his forehead. “Hey,” he said. “You with me, kid?”

“Yeah,” Bucky managed, breathless.

“And how was that,” Sam seemed to prompt, “okay?” His eyes were dark, hard to read, but there was a quiver in the arm around Bucky’s shoulders, and he suddenly realized he was nervous, too.

“More than,” Bucky breathed. “That was perfect.”

Sam smiled, and Bucky felt his heart skip, but this time it didn’t hurt at all, or settle anxiously in his stomach. It made him feel lighter than air. Kinda like he was flying.


End file.
